


Square One

by syredronning



Series: Draws [4]
Category: Star Trek (2009), Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-08
Updated: 2010-09-08
Packaged: 2017-10-11 14:37:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/113505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/syredronning/pseuds/syredronning
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pike once offered his heart only to get it torn apart. Now he wonders if the second try will end any better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Square One

**Author's Note:**

> This is the sequel to [Rochade](http://syredronning.livejournal.com/1171032.html). Liederlady asked about Alain, and that's what I came up. And I finally named the series "Draws".
> 
> Thanks for the wonderful beta goes to madelf, who's become quite my partner in crime for this series. She first saved me from posting a pile of crap and then polished this complete rewrite. I would send her lots of Swiss chocolate but the US customs don't like that :P The remaining flaws, however, are solely mine.

One week, three days since the Enterprise departed, and Christopher Pike finds himself in one of the worst emotional states of his life.

_That's what you get for breaking your personal rules_, he thinks, settling on his small balcony with a beer, looking over the city. They've been there for a reason, his lines of defense to ensure that there would be not another situation like ten years ago, where he opened himself up to a ridiculous degree and then got his shredded heart back on a platter.

A bunch of rules all set up to make sure there would be no second Alain.

Now he's let Kirk and McCoy walk into his life, his my-home-is-my-castle apartment, his never-fucked-in bed and every private spot he has. They don't need to know everything about him – they are deeply enough under his skin by now to cause the same havoc, if they want to, and it's his own fault for letting them in.

_Something special_. Damn Jim for stealing his line and using it against him. They have something special for sure. Of the two weeks the Enterprise had been on Earth, the two officers stayed in his apartment for four days, then left for some family meetings and Enterprise arrangements only to return for another three days. In the end, their schedule had been hurried so they hadn't been able to say good-bye properly, only leave a hand-written note on his table saying that they'd keep in touch.

It had been a very special time, but it had also been strange. Not the sex per se – there is nothing strange about sex, no matter the variety. Even with three, there is a limit to places and positions, and they've probably permuted through most of the possible combinations in his apartment. (And the car. And the restroom in that French restaurant, but it almost didn't count as sex. Almost.)

What's strange, though, are all the side effects the two have on him.

Most of the time they'd been in San Francisco, Kirk and McCoy had been absorbed in meetings, talks, lunches, and dinners with other Starfleet officers until late at night. Sometimes Pike had seen one or both of them at the same reception, or sat at a table nearby. Then he'd sneaked glances at them, watching the way they behaved in a professional surrounding.

They are both perfectly able to follow all the unwritten rules of conversation in a multi-species surrounding. Kirk is charming, witty, the perfect flirt with the feared admirals' wives, always well-informed and more opinionated than he let on. McCoy is more of a listener than an active participant in discussions, unless they hit a theme that touches him deeply, like rescue efforts or politics about an ongoing war and the question of whether the Federation should interfere, in which case nobody is left with any doubts about the doctor's heartfelt opinion. Although nobody could miss the vibe of old colleagues between the men, nobody would've thought they were a couple either, and if they'd ever sneaked a glance back at Pike at any official gathering, he hasn't noticed.

It had evoked a surprisingly painful feeling of being ignored by them. Of course, they greeted each other and spoke amicably at the few receptions where their ways crossed, but they'd never let on in public that they know him on a more than friendly basis, or that when the receptions were over, they'd driven to his apartment and screwed each other's brains out all night.

He should thank them for their self-control, because he likes his private life to stay out of the rumor mill.

He still wouldn't have minded seeing them a little less detached.

Sometimes he wonders if he's been dreaming all of this, if these nights really happened. There isn't much hard evidence. Just a shirt of Jim's that has survived the departure forgotten in a corner and is now sitting on a shelf, freshly washed and waiting for the return of its owner, and that small white plush teddy with a heart pendant around its neck that McCoy had bought for him when they'd walked through "Disney Galaxy" one Sunday. Really, it's the sappiest gift Pike has received ever since his twelfth birthday, but it sits on the same shelf next to Jim's shirt.

Pike thinks that he is coming dangerously close to the category of "love-struck old fool" by now. Which brings him back to the thing with Alain, the last man for whom he'd thrown his rules (fewer, but still) overboard.

*

Alain was everything Pike wasn't. Without a sarcastic bone in his body, Alain was like fresh water and sunlight. He had the air of a surfer boy around him and the body of one too: green eyes, long blond hair, and tanned skin. Alain was in the media business, not in Starfleet - he didn't even like the 'fleet and never made a secret of that, taunting Pike when he was stuck in his habits and liked his normal days well-planned, his time-tables sorted. They met when Pike took a break from starship duty on the insistence of his superiors, who wanted to pave him the way into a future career in the recruitment department and demanded he'd stay on Earth for a while. It didn't feel like a good decision at first, but getting to know Alain changed everything.

Alain sang godawfully loud in the shower and spread his extensive toiletry (which included care products Pike hadn't even heard of before) all over the place once he moved in without much ado. He messed with the holy order of Pike's small, clean apartment, where every piece of laundry had its spot, perfectly folded and aligned, by putting his colorful shorts and shirts randomly into the piles. He tested and tried every kink there was on Earth and came up with a few more on the way, playful and smiling and just so much in tune with himself and the universe that Pike felt as if he'd been stuck in a cage before that, and was only now able to breathe freely.

With Alain, he didn't care if anyone saw them together. He'd been out to his friends since the academy, but he'd never seen a reason to flaunt his sexuality in the face of the world. Hand in hand in Alain he walked out of the closet he'd still been living in, kissing in public, making no secret about the fact that the man at his side wasn't just a friend but his lover, no longer flinching apart when he met a colleague or a neighbor. He started to outgrow all the concerns that had held him back from living like he really wanted to, thoughts of what the world would make of him if they saw the Christopher Pike that wasn't distanced, cool and in full control of his emotions, the man that wasn't working day and night.

At times, he thought about the future. Alain didn't fit into the 'fleet world and wouldn't want to become a captain's stay-behind wife. Even though they were as committed as two people with a tendency towards non-monogamy could be, months-long fidelity was out. It was the first time in his life that Pike considered leaving Starfleet. There were many places a man like him could go to, many companies looking for the expertise and professional skills of captains, be it for Earth-bound jobs or for captaining their commercial spaceships. The pay was great, the working conditions better than in the 'fleet. Once Pike started to drop hints that he might consider taking such a step, employment offers came in. Although he was forty-two, age wasn't an issue; if anything, companies were more interested once they saw his résumé.

He had a few interviews, began making serious plans that didn't involve Starfleet. He didn't inform Alain about these plans right away; he wanted to wait to surprise him on their first anniversary. They'd planned to take a week off together to spend it in Hawaii; the hotel reservation was done, the flights booked. It would be the perfect moment to bring up Pike's plans for the future.

Then two days before the vacation, Alain called him from work and cancelled it, blaming a business trip for some media campaign he was forced to undertake. Pike was a little disappointed, but didn't think about it twice. Things like these were bound to happen when both partners worked. Alain returned five days later, and with him the usual chaos into the just cleaned apartment. There was still the smell of beach and sunlight around him, but once in a while Pike caught a glimpse of something different, something serious that lingered beneath the surface.

When Pike finally got around to sharing his plans with Alain over a romantic dinner at the hippest restaurant this side of the city, Alain didn't exactly jump at the idea of Pike leaving the 'fleet, arguing that it was basically his entire life and that he'd probably die of boredom once he didn't have to deal with 'fleet paperwork anymore.

"If you keep talking like that, I might think you don't want me to stay on Earth," Pike joked after he'd listened to Alain for a while. The joke died as he looked into Alain's eyes, those open, brilliantly green eyes that couldn't hide a thing, and realized that Alain really didn't want him to stay. All the ease Pike had developed over the last year ran out of him like color washed off by rain.

"Why?" he asked.

"I've met a woman," Alain started, and Pike's stomach turned into a lump. He'd always known Alain identified as bisexual, but he hadn't cared. It didn't really matter if the partner left for someone of the same or a different gender, he'd argued whenever some well-meaning friends had uttered some clichéd warnings.

"She's working in the same company as I do. I've actually known her from a distance for a few years now, but we didn't have sex until, well – the business trip."

"I see," Pike said for lack of a better comment, still waiting for the point of it all.

"She wants to have a relationship with me, the full program. Marriage and children and all."

"Children," Pike repeated blankly. "Didn't think that was ever an issue for you."

"It wasn't before," Alain admitted. "But I'm not getting any younger, and she's a wonderful woman. I think we can make it really work; I can imagine myself raising kids with her."

_Was there another way to get so monumentally defeated?_ Pike wondered. He'd never given a thought to having a traditional family, though maybe he would have if Alain had at least given him a chance to rethink priorities. But it was clear that while Alain wanted to have that kind of family, it was not even an option that it would be with him. He wasn't the right person; he possibly didn't have the right sex either, which would've forced them through a lengthy, costly procedure of alternative methods or go for an adoption - and taking in Alain's expression when he spoke about having kids, adoption wouldn't be enough anyway.

"When would you have told me?"

Alain averted his gaze. "I thought that you'd be on a mission again soon, and with the distance, well, things would've been easier for both of us."

Pike nodded. He turned his head and looked out over the city at night, the stars barely visible from its light pollution. Took a sip from the white wine gone warm, stared down at the half-eaten plate of a first-class dish he wouldn't finish. He paid for the meals, drove them back, watched Alain collect his things (and for once, Alain was neat and didn't overlook any of his belongings) and at last opened the door for him.

"I'm really sorry, Chris," Alain said, suddenly looking ten years older, the face weathered, the shine less bright.

"I'm sorry, too," Pike replied, then closed the door in his face.

He went out on another two-year mission a week later, as a last-minute substitution for a captain with acute burn-out syndrome. Starfleet was extremely relieved about his quick decision and generously paid for his apartment and some extras over the full trip. When he returned, people had long since forgotten the surprising breakup, and only his most intimates friends, like Natasha and John, ever had the heart to bring up Alain again. After that, it was either sex with friends he cared for but didn't love (like Dan) or short-lived affairs that ended before the participants qualified for crossing the threshold of his apartment, and he had fared well with this method for eight years.

*

_Now it's back to square one_, Pike thinks and takes a sip of his beer, trying to purge the phantom taste of wine from the night Alain left. Back to the point where he walks into his apartment thinking of a lover, even two now, and where his bed reminds him of nights spent in company. While Kirk and McCoy have the same service-taught tidiness that he has, a t-shirt and an incredibly kitschy teddy bear are silent witnesses to his breaking of rules.

_Nothing exclusive_, Jim has said. Of course, anything else would be stupid for such a long-range – well, what? Relationship?

Pike rolls the word over his tongue and discards it. He has no clue what exactly they have, just that it defies definition.

_Great, Admiral, you got it even worse than in the past; at least you thought you knew back then what you were risking your heart for._

He could call them, pay for a real-time transmission. He wonders if he'd disrupt them during sex and, if he did so, wonders if they'd stop, make him listen, or even participate somehow. He drops the rather arousing thought as he empties his beer and gives the city a last glance-over before walking inside. It's late; he'd have a full day tomorrow and should hit bed.

It's just an awfully empty bed.

In every B-class movie, there'd be a call from them now, but his console stays quiet. With a sigh, Pike undresses and slips under the thin blanket. It's fresh, not a trace of their smell on it – which is a good thing, considering what they'd done most of the time. It still evokes a feeling of loneliness – _there, you said it, now you're doomed_, his inner voice admonishes him.

With a groan he gets up again and snatches Jim's fresh t-shirt, pulling it on. 'Go climb a rock' is written on its front, but Pike knows it's wishful thinking. Jim frequently complains about not having made it to actual rocks yet, only exercising on the Enterprise's climbing wall so far, which is probably better for the doc's mood.

As Pike isn't into rocks at all – in fact, he's into sports only as a measure of staying fit, not as a fun hobby – he doesn't take the message personally. However, when he thinks of his life right now, maybe it simply means he should deal with the rough, steep, _emotional_ stuff thrown in his way.

"Don't even think of it," he addresses the teddy bear coolly. It stares at him, mocking him with the ridiculous heart on its stuffed chest. Really, he's losing it. He goes back to bed, ordering the lights off.

What the heck. If they don't call him, he'd call them tomorrow.

*

Of course he doesn't call them the next day, or the day after that. Instead, he rationally decides that he isn't the kind of man to let an encounter take over his world, even if it had been seven nights of hot sex with people that have become important to him.

He cleans the t-shirt again, then stows it into a closet with the teddy bear, out of sight. If they call, it would be welcome – if they don't, it would be alright too. He has no special privileges, and he knows how insanely busy starship duty could be for the senior officers. (He also knows how boring it can be, but the Enterprise often works like a trouble magnet.)

He invites Natasha for the weekend to visit his parents' former ranch in Mojave with him, where Pike is still a welcome visitor whenever he wants to take a ride. They depart early on Friday, and he determinedly leaves every communication device at home, not in the mood to let Starfleet interfere with his getaway trip.

As if planned for them, there's a large barbecue on Friday evening. There is lots of alcohol on top of beans and half-done steaks. Pike is drunker on bourbon than he has been for years and _damn_, it feels good. Nat is drunk too, and she's having fun leaning over and whispering to him about the gorgeous ass of this or that man. She seems to think he needs to get laid to get his mind off certain people, and he's a bit annoyed when she gets too obvious about trying to hook him up. He doesn't need it that bad, does he?

Maybe he does, because he leaves the gathering only an hour later, with a guy with a cowboy hat. Once they're both around the corner, the drunken groping starts right away. It's almost dark, the air smells of burning wood and late summer, and there are stars all over the sky. They tumble into a nearby barn, and it seems empty as they look for a good spot between open-mouthed kisses, hands roughly undoing flies. Pike's hungry for action, his fingers quickly working on the other guy's hard-on. The guy's young and strong, farm boy quality, and he's moving Pike's pants down his hips and pushing him back onto a pile of straw. _Not that_, Pike thinks and resists, digging his fingers into the guy's shoulders and bringing him down with a knowing pressure on nerve points. The guy utters a rough laugh, adding something _like fine by me_, and gives in. He takes Pike's dick into his mouth, deep-throats him without hesitation.

It's so dark, all moving shadows as Pike looks down at the guy. His hands are lacing into short hair, adjusting the movements to his will, riding the mouth. The guy's good but Pike's not as hard as he could be, something's missing.

It's only when he thinks of the doc and Jim that his groin explodes.

_Shit._

He pushes the guy away, murmuring, "Want to fuck you." He gets only a movement in response as the guy withdraws and leans over the haystack. Pike gets behind him, shoves down the guy's jeans, palms the ass, thinks of the doc, thinks of Jim, thinks of the beach trip they'd made and how he needs to bring them up here. He gets out the lube, probes with one finger. The guy's used to things up his ass, and he does just that, gets his dick deep into the well-trained hole without much preamble. He shoves the guy against the haystack with every push, digging his hands hard into the guy's hips. Remembers Jim's moans as the guy under him whimpers, fucks him hard against the prostate as he'd do Jim, soon making the guy come over the straw. He follows swiftly, grabbing the guy's hair and pulling his head back as he rides out his orgasm. At last he pulls out, trying to get his things together, and shares a few words with the guy before the man leaves him. There's no need for even exchanging names; they've gotten what they wanted.

Pike remains sitting on the straw for a little while, then finally makes it out, his legs trembling a little from the alcohol, the fuck, and maybe the realization that '_nothing exclusive_' might be a great label, but it isn't a decision made by his higher brain functions.

The group around the dying grill is small now, and Nat's nowhere to be seen. He hopes she's having a good time and awkwardly sits down, helping himself to more bourbon and getting lost until the early morning hours.

The hangover is brutal, but they're ready for a ride in the late afternoon, high on pain pills and some semi-legal detox that the farmer has around. Natasha showed up at noon, and now keeps shifting around in the saddle, confusing the horse. Pike doesn't comment on it, because the last thing he needs right now is an in-depth conversation about their activities of last night.

Or his complete failure at making his brain go non-exclusive.

There's another barbecue in the neighborhood and Nat's going to attend. Seems there's a second date in for her, but Pike doesn't feel up to another ride with a cowboy. He spends the evening in the stables, working until he's sweaty and tired, and when the farmer's daughter comes back in late with her stallion, he helps with the cleaning and grooming. They talk a little, about the farm and all the work that's in it, and it's so far away from his 'fleet life that it could be another planet, another galaxy.

The next morning, Nat calls him to say that she'd like to spend the day with Robert, and asks if he's got anything against it. He's fine and goes on a ride by himself, getting lost in the feel of nature, the heat of the desert and the smell of sand.

They need to leave in the evening but they're both unwilling. There's that guy called Robert and Pike faintly remembers him as they shake hands - looks good, looks serious, could hold a drink, fine by him. They exchange a few words but mostly it's Nat talking, like a swirling bird. He hasn't seen her so cheerful in some time, and obviously she needed a lay much more than he did. Finally they depart, and Nat's doing the driving while he nods off, his head against the side window, his confused dreams full of sex. She delivers herself to her doorstep, and he drives the last kilometers, looking forward to hitting the mattress.

Once he's at home, he's too wound-up for it. He spends an hour stowing things away, moving dirty clothes into the wash, having another drink (bourbon is only half the fun drunk alone) and then gives up. The console flickers awake when he drops into the chair in front of it. If they don't call him, he'll call them, and they had better live with that, or he's going to put everything on a damn hold, because otherwise he might just go crazy over this.

Then the console is fully on, and the only thing he sees is the blinking one-line headline of the internal news – "Enterprise - contact lost since stardate 1223.8".

It's nothing unusual; sometimes ships go to radio-silence or are in an area of impeded transmission. It's happened before, even with the Enterprise, and it's simply regulation that after forty-eight hours of no contact between SF command or its relay stations and a ship, the alert would be issued.

But hell if it doesn't make Pike feel like an idiot for wallowing in self-pity while they are out there and possibly fighting for their life. In space, the top priority of a captain is the ship and its crew, not something - or someone - left at home.

He gets up, picking up his communicator. There's already a message from Barnett, to whom the Enterprise officially reports – it had been pure chance that Pike held that one meeting with them, substituting for Barnett who'd called in sick that day. Considering all events, it's good they aren't his direct subordinates, Pike thinks. He reads the message, just one acronym – "RTHQ" – report to headquarters, and he's instantly on his way.

*

The next day, the tactical center of HQ is full of activity, but in a subdued, hushed way. The Enterprise is still missing and there's no new information. She's been on a cartography mission in a sector yet unmapped by the Federation, popularly called the Jewel Sector for its arrangement of stars that look like a diamond collar. The sector's not close to Romulan or Klingon space, and the Enterprise reported no problems before her sudden vanishing. Pike has taken short breaks, but never long enough to go home. He's following the incoming reports obsessively, trying to reach some information sources of his own. He even goes as far as calling his old friend John Farnham.

"Hello Christopher," Farnham says when he finally reaches him, "haven't heard from you in a long time."

"Yes. Sorry for that," Pike says, not above lying.

"I doubt you are. Well, at least I saw you in your club, with George's son and his doctor. Handsome guys, aren't they? Must be hard on you, not knowing anything about their fate."

"Yes, it is. And I wondered if you know something the Enterprise's whereabouts that we don't know."

"Why would I know anything?" Farnham asks, the smirk deep enough to be audible.

"Because you're working for Fed intelligence."

"Am I? I'm sure I never said so."

"I'm not deaf, dumb or blind."

"You were rather blind to your surroundings when you got all the way into the pants of the doctor while dancing. Could've stolen your credits if I had wanted to."

"Do you know more than we do, John?" Pike asks, ignoring the snide remark. "Because if you do, this would be a good moment to release the information."

"If I knew anything, don't you think I'd tell you?"

"No, because you'd rather I call you and ask for it."

"Well," Farnham says, definitely amused, "that might be true. Though in that case, you should work a little more for it. You know, _beg_ a little."

"Remember that it's my club you prefer to hang around, because it's clean, full of hot guys, and you've got eternal credit at the bar," Pike says coldly.

"Right. I tend to forget it's yours, because it fits so little with uptight Christopher Pike that I can never really wrap my mind around it. It's Alain's doing, loosening you up a little."

"We're talking about the Enterprise, John."

"And I like to talk about Alain. Do you know he's got two sons by now? The older one wants to attend Starfleet academy in the future. Isn't that an amusing quirk of fate? I can tell you, Alain's not pleased."

"Why would you track someone like Alain?" Pike asks incredulously.

"Because I can?"

Pike rubs his neck, wondering if Farnham's gone a little crazy; it's more likely though that this kind of nuts simply comes with working for intelligence. He knows why he's said 'no' the few times he's been offered that kind of job.

"The Enterprise, John."

"The Enterprise, right. Maybe I'll have something for you. No promises, though."

"You never promise anything."

"Just wanted to make sure you remember."

"I only remember why I hate to call you," Pike says darkly.

"The love of old friends." Farnham laughs. "Bye-bye, sweetheart." He closes the line, leaving Pike strangely unsettled. There were two kinds of old friends, those that have grown on you, that you really like to spend your time with, and the others that you're stuck with, who know too much about you and cross your path more than you want. John definitely belongs to the second category, and he'd be damned before calling that ass again anytime soon. If he can help it.

Four hours later, they receive news about a mysterious ship that has been monitored in the same sector the Enterprise was last seen in. Pike doesn't know if it had been his call or the call of anyone else, and he would never know. He's likely not the only admiral with contacts to other sources of information, and he's not even part of some of the inner circles the city has, old Federation legacies like the Forresters and Archers and Aprils.

But all that matters now is that they have something new, however meager. The few images are blurred and almost look faked, but are reported to be from a trusted source. Pike is at thirty-six hours without a good sleep, and wonders if he's going to start seeing white rabbits if he keeps staring on the screen with the image.

Cubic ships? Only robots would build a ship like that.

*

Another ten hours pass without new results. The Antares has reached the sector, but has found no traces of the Enterprise or the mysterious ship so far. _Needles in a galactic haystack_, Pike thinks. He's gotten four hours of sleep but as they'd been filled with the worst nightmares he's had in years, he doesn't mind staying awake instead.

The missing starship has hit the public news, families start to call in, and the HQ turns into a bustling hive of meetings and memos. Since Pike isn't assigned to starship operations, he's one of the few that keep working on the day-to-day business of the admiralty, though always with one eye on the news. There's nothing he can do but wait, and it's tiring him like nothing else. He's a man of action, for god's sake. He should never have taken any kind of desk job.

He hadn't had much choice after the Narada incident, though. Even after he was back on duty on his own two feet, thoroughly checked and certified healthy by SF Medical, he was considered unfit for another captaincy (not officially, of course, but he's not stupid). He can't blame Starfleet for that opinion; he'd likely think the same about anyone who'd gone through his experiences. It had been a close call for the slug turning him into a vegetable or an eternal wheelchair case, so he should feel lucky for being alive and still doing useful work. He's been given the admiral's stripes he'd resisted for years, and a brand-new office that is now slowly starting to look a little worn.

He'd gladly give it all back for a ship and a mission to the Jewel Sector.

*

"She's back," is all Barnett says when he calls Pike at his apartment in the middle of the following night, tearing him out of another nightmare. "Currently limping to Starbase 14."

Pike feels a large weight lifted from his chest. "What happened?"

"Run-in with the cubic ship. Full report in a few hours, including a list of casualties."

"Any senior officers among them?"

"No. Kirk's wounded, so Spock is acting captain. But nothing serious."

"Good." Pike inhales deeply. "Thanks a lot for calling."

"Thought you'd want to know instantly. It was your ship, after all."

Barnett closes the line, and Pike sinks into the nearby chair, massaging his forehead with both hands. Both alive – thank god.

He sleeps a lot better after that.

*

The list of casualties is eleven names long, mostly from engineering which had taken the strongest hits in the battle.

The list of wounded is fifty-three, with both Kirk and McCoy on it. The list is tagged with the usual Starfleet code from A (critical) to E (minor), and Pike is relieved to see both show a C (medium, which usually means some surgery but nothing that would result in permanent aftereffects).

The mission report tells a story about the cubic ship appearing out of nowhere and instantly engaging the Enterprise in a fight. There'd been no warning, no communication and it almost looks as if the cube had been waiting specifically for the Enterprise. Not a calming thought, considering that they still have no clue which species this is, only that their ship is powerful enough to cause serious damage to the flagship. Most of the deaths occurred from direct enemy impact, which was centered on the impulsion system. They hadn't wanted to destroy the Enterprise – they'd wanted to disable and take her.

In the end, Kirk managed to destroy the enemy vessel by luring it into a nebula they'd just mapped and igniting its meta-stable chemical mixture with the phaser banks. The Enterprise barely escapes the inferno, many injuries resulting from the shock wave and temporary loss of gravity. At least she's survived and is able to report in now, sending close-up images and movies of the cubic ship, instead of vanishing forever.

Pike knows the report will keep the HQ analysts busy for months. With Federation enemies psychologically strengthened since the Narada incident, another unknown enemy is just what they need. He plays some of the recordings, automatically taking notes on the ship's maneuverability and weaponry, and considers Kirk's solution to be as ingenious as he expects him to be, because they'd definitely been running out of options at that point.

He writes a short message to Kirk, from admiral to captain, sending his condolences on the losses and congratulating him on bringing the Enterprise home against the odds. He doesn't expect a quick answer, but Kirk's reply is at his console four hours later.

"Thx for your message. We were damn lucky. Expect personal real-time transmission once we're cleared at the starbase. Jim."

*

They keep their word and Pike receives the "incoming transmission" signal shortly after 1800 in his own apartment, taking a deep breath before he accepts it. Seconds later, McCoy is on screen.

"Admiral," McCoy says formally.

"Doctor," Pike says just as formally, hiding the gigantic relief he feels over seeing McCoy with his own eyes. He examines McCoy's face as much as possible via the screen. The doc looks exhausted, dark rings under his eyes, one large, blue area on the left side of his face. "I'm very glad to find both of you alive."

"We've been lucky," McCoy says, mirroring Jim's words. "The ship is whole, and the two of us. We got smashed around after the ignition of the nebula. Jim's got a broken jaw that keeps him from talking right now, but that's minor compared to what we could've ended up with."

"It is. I've read the mission report; it was a close call. Jim's decision to use the nebula as weapon was probably your last best chance."

There is a brief silence, then McCoy sighs. "Damn – I'm sorry, Chris. We are sorry."

"What for?"

"For not calling or sending a message earlier. We both fail at keeping in touch with people. I've managed to keep half-written letters on my console for three months without finishing them, and don't ask Jim if he's ever composed a personal message to anyone unless it was one-hundred-and-fifty percent necessary."

"You don't owe me anything, doc."

"But we do." McCoy clears his throat. "We meant what we said back on Earth. Usually we're just happy to fly away and not see the planet for months, but this time it really rankled because we had to leave you without even saying good-bye. We wondered if we should call right after the take-off but then we didn't, thinking it wouldn't help a thing anyway. Then we got into this disaster and if we had died, you would've been left thinking we were really only self-absorbed bastards looking for kicks."

"I would never think that," Pike says. "I mainly thought you were back to your own life, and that it would be enough if you got back to me in time for our next meeting – if there are any. We didn't promise each other anything."

"I know. And it's really not my style, okay? I don't randomly buy silly stuffed animals for other people." McCoy looks at him intensely. "Just so you know, we didn't forget you at all, and we'll do our best to keep in contact and in one piece, so that we can meet again whenever we hit Earth."

"Leonard… really, I know how it is to be on a ship. I've been on many long missions, after all," Pike says. "Everything that is not within daily sight feels like it almost doesn't exist. It's a life apart, and that's what many of us were looking for when we went into space."

"You want to get rid of us? Then keep talking," McCoy mutters.

"I don't want to get rid of you, as you should have noticed. There's just – you were right in thinking that communicating like this doesn't help a thing because it's not the real thing. Even though I'm glad to have visual proof that you are still alive."

"Well, then we've got to make it that way," McCoy states.

"What -?"

"Make it the kind of communication that feels real."

Pike shakes his head. "Really –"

"If you think you can escape us by hiding some hundreds light years away, you're wrong," McCoy says bluntly. "And I'm speaking for both of us."

"We'll see," Pike relents. They want to keep more in touch – fine by him, but he knows how quickly promises of regular messages end with one communication a year, and he won't nail them down for any broken promises.

"Yes, we will. And don't hide the poor bear in some drawer, he doesn't deserve it."

Pike stares at McCoy. "How –?"

"Doesn't take a genius to guess, Chris. We're rather alike. So do me a favor and put him somewhere in your sight. I like to imagine that you talk to him. Insults are fine too." McCoy smirks.

"Bastard."

"Yeah. And Jim said you can wear his t-shirt, even if you don't climb any rocks."

"I already wore it once."

"He'll be delighted to hear that. One of yours found its way into our bags too, by the way."

"Which one?"

"The one that says 'Captains do it at warp speed'."

Pike frowns. "That was a gift from the crew when I got my first command. You better bring it back or I'll kick your ass for misappropriation, because I don't believe in the least that you took it accidentally."

"It wasn't my idea," McCoy says a little apologetic. "But when Jim's wearing it, I think of you so I'm not complaining."

"You _really_ are a little sick, gentlemen."

"Fully compatible with a certain admiral." McCoy eyes the lower left corner of the screen. "Need to end the transmission now. Take care, and stay cool when things get a little rough out here. We'll always turn up."

"Guess you will." Pike shakes his head but smiles. "Godspeed, and give Jim a punch from me for taking my t-shirt."

McCoy nods and switches off.

Pike half turns in his chair, slapping the table. They had sex with his favorite tee on? They better bring it back well-cleaned, and on their own two legs!

 

When he comes home that evening, he opens the closet, frowning at the teddy bear as he gets him out. Him, yes, definitely a guy. He puts the bear on the shelf above his desk, tweaking him into position. He'd have to find a name for him but he can't decide right away. Really, what respectable Starfleet admiral has a teddy bear sitting around anyway?

He shakes his head and goes to cook, one of the few occupations that don't remind him of the two men. They'd been far too busy with other things to hit the kitchen for anything more than sandwiches, mostly had called in food or left for a late dinner whenever they needed it – there's always some open restaurant in this city.

He eats on the balcony, then drinks a beer. He thinks of them, finally, warm thoughts that creep up his spine and make his head dizzy. _Fuck them for fucking with my life_, he thinks and smiles anyway. He'll manage.

*

Despite the vows of communication, he actually doesn't expect to hear from them soon, but then a voice recording comes in four days later. It's locked to his eyes only, and he sits in his office when he starts it.

"Hello, Admiral," Jim's voice comes in, a little dampened compared to his usually cheery sound, probably still some leftover from the damaged jaw. "We gave the subject of communication some thought, and since we're currently both off-duty, licking our wounds in my quarters, we thought we could start with some _real_ communication right away.

"We gambled, and Bones lost, so now he's already on the bed, all naked except for the collar we bought in that shop you recommended. Really great quality, and I love voice-locked metal gear on him. He's kneeling, one hand on his dick because I told him to get a little excited. He's been complaining about the plan all day, but it was his own idea; I just caught on to it."

"It was a side remark," McCoy's voice comes in from a distance. "Never thought you'd take it seriously."

"Come on, say something to your favorite Admiral." The micro picks up steps and fabric moving, then only heavy breathing.

At last, a "Hey, Chris. Hope you'll like it."

"That's all?"

"I'm a doctor, not a show girl, so get on with it," McCoy's voice grouches into the mike. Pike doesn't know if he should laugh or shake his head, so he does both, unable to stop this aural train-wreck. Crazy bastards sending him self-made voice-porn – and damn if it doesn't work, as Jim goes on talking.

"You should see him; he's so damn hard already. He's been hard all day thinking about this, though we both know he'd never admit it. Get your hand off, Bones, wouldn't want to come too quickly, would you? Get on all fours, yes, like that." More sounds of fabric scraping over things, the squeal of a mattress, someone breathing.

"I'm kneeling behind him now, still dressed in uniform. Feels freaking hot to have sex in it, I bet you liked that too. The power of captaincy. I've got my hands all over his ass, and he's moaning a little, hope the mike will pick it up. I put some lube on my fingers. I'm going to do that thing you love to do, putting my thumbs in his ass, one after the other, stretching his hole, finger-fucking him with my thumbs. He's tense at the moment, and I love breaking him in a little with the movements, slicking him up for my dick. Thought about doing something big tonight, but thinking about this recording got me so worked up. I've got to blow off a little steam before I can move on to anything elaborate."

There's an audible moan now, coming in a regular rhythm, and Pike gets hard, closing his eyes as the scene completely sucks him (how fitting). He imagines his thumbs there, pressing into the ring of muscle, preparing the doc. He shifts in his seat, breathing harder as Kirk starts speaking again (must have paused – great timing).

"Ah, he's moving against me, wanting more. Love seeing him so needy. We both love that, don't we? There's a lot of lube around, and my fingers are slippery on my zipper. I'm pulling it down, just enough to get my dick out. I'm so hard too, and I'm imagining you sitting next to the bed, watching us like in that one night. You jerked off, came all undone just from watching us fuck. How hot was that?"

_Damn, yes._ Pike's hand rubs over his groin, his head tilting back.

"I've got one hand on his hips; I'm guiding my dick in with the other. He's still a bit tense, must be the recording, thinking of you listening to it. I'm getting in, just a little, just to let him know what's to come. He's got his head down on the mattress, his hands digging into the covers. He's moving back at me, wanting more. Yeah. I'm pressing in. I'm right there, all in. God, I've been waiting for this all day. Wanted to fuck him so much. Just think how your dick would slip into him, how you could lean over him and ride him hard, just like I do."

There's a knock and another one and Pike later thinks that only decades in a captain's chair give him the presence of mind to shut off the recording right before his assistant steps in. She's young and highly qualified, but also new in his department and therefore still a little unsure at times. He feels guilty just thinking about what she might pick up from his face now, since his groin is thankfully hidden behind the table.

"Yes, Nicole?" he says very calmly.

"Sir - you have an appointment for lunch with Admiral Barnett in half an hour."

"That late already?" Pike shifts in his seat, straightening his uniform. A glance at the console tells him that the silent alarm has passed without him noticing. Not really surprising, since his eyes had been closed. "Thank you, Nicole. I'll leave in a minute."

She tilts her head and then walks out, closing the door behind her. With a sigh, Pike sinks back in his chair. He should stop, but he can't. At least he could move forward to the ending, just to know how it will end. He can listen to the full glory of Enterprise-made porn later tonight.

The recording jumps right into a sentence, " - pulled out now, god, I'm done. But Bones isn't, of course. He's waiting for me to do something. It's not what he expects." There're some sounds, movements, muttered words, a few slaps. Then a loud, "Fuck, Jim, you can't do that to me!"

There's Kirk's voice back, laughing breathlessly, "Got his hands cuffed behind his back. Damn, if looks could kill, I'd fall over dead. He's just about to explode and I won't let him."

"I'll pay you back, dammit, Jim –"

"I think I'll give him a little break and then return for a second round of – not telling yet. I'll stop this recording now. You'll get the next part in a few days." There's a short pause. "Wish you were here. You're missed, Chris. Hope you like it. Send a wishlist if you feel like – it's a hot idea following your lead out here."

Pike switches off the recording. He's breathing hard and his dick is rock-solid and aching. There's no way in hell he can go anywhere like this, so he voice-locks the door and opens his pants. It's a quick job, and he's still enough in control not to spill his come over his uniform, though it's damn close. He gives the blood another five minutes to recede, then goes to the restroom, throwing cold water in his face and washing his hands thoroughly.

Of course, he's late for his lunch with Barnett.

*

"Gentlemen," starts Pike's voice message, which he records while walking around in his apartment the next morning, "I hereby order you to explicitly tag those message of yours that are not safe for work, especially when they involve practices forbidden on thirty-four percent of all Federation worlds and are transmitted via official channels which cost tax payers' credits. That said, I have to admit that the recording constitutes effective communication, in so far as it had the intended effect on me. I may not be able to reciprocate accordingly, but will endeavor to do so.

"As per the advice of the doctor, I have freed a certain creature from the closet. I named him Mr. Lenny. Mr. Lenny, in contrast to the two of you, knows how to display proper behavior in the presence of superiors. I'm also convinced of his discretion, which might be good for my reputation, because he never hears the end of my troubles with a certain ship and its senior officers. Of course, he's also a witness to any voice-recordings that we will exchange in the future.

"Jim, I'm still displeased that you've taken my favorite t-shirt on tour. Since it's one of a kind, it's your moral obligation to return it to me in one piece. As this may fail if you fall into your usual routine of battling enemy vessels every other day, I will see to it that after the repair, your next mission is going to be a milk run carrying diplomatic personnel. Consider this your punishment, _Captain_."

Pike stops the recording, smirking to himself. The diplomatic mission had already been decided by Barnett. Pike actually advised against using the Enterprise, but at least he can receive a little secondary satisfaction from it now.

He starts the recording again, his voice more gentle. "Leonard, Jim – damn if I know how to put into words what you do to me. Please try to stay alive until our next meeting, because I'm starting to believe you really mean all the things you said. Besides, you're delivering the hottest porn ever into my box." He sighs a little and stares out of the window. "It's a damn cloudy sky here, but I keep looking up anyway, thinking of you. Take care." He stops, not finding another good word to say. God knows what schedule of communication the two have in mind, so he'll probably need things left to say for future recordings.

Pike eyes the teddy. "Satisfied, mister?" he asks. As no complaints come forward, he locks the message to the highest SF privacy level and Kirk's private key in addition. Then he sends it on its way out into the galaxy, already looking forward to the answer.


End file.
